


Belonging

by ladyeternal



Series: Angelic Mates 'verse [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Angst and Porn, Comfort/Angst, Dirty Talk, M/M, Team Free Love, because these boys are practically made of angst so it really can't be helped
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-10
Updated: 2011-05-28
Packaged: 2018-02-05 00:43:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1799230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyeternal/pseuds/ladyeternal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everything can change in a New York minute. Accepting those changes takes a little longer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Belonging - Part One

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers: To stay on the safe side, all aired episodes
> 
> Angst, drama, romance, pr0n… These are the reasons we watch this show, except for the pr0n, which I am happy to supply. :-D
> 
> Disclaimer: If I owned Supernatural, certain events would NEVER have happened and there would be unabashed pr0n. I’m only playing with this world for my own amusement and the free entertainment of others.
> 
> Feedback is adored, so if you like the fic, please comment! And the more details the better; I love knowing what people like about my work.
> 
> Much love to my magnificent and endlessly supportive beta, [**morganoconner**](http://archiveofourown/users/morganoconner), and everyone else who commented asking more in this ‘verse!
> 
> Music: [My Confession – Josh Groban](http://lyrics.wikia.com/Gracenote:Josh_Groban:My_Confession)  
> [Savin’ Me – Nickelback](http://lyrics.wikia.com/Gracenote:Nickelback:Savin%27_Me)  
> [Have a Little Faith In Me – John Hiatt](http://lyrics.wikia.com/Gracenote:John_Hiatt:Have_A_Little_Faith_In_Me)  
> [Just Say Yes – Snow Patrol](http://lyrics.wikia.com/Gracenote:Snow_Patrol:Just_Say_Yes)  
> [Love Song – 311](http://lyrics.wikia.com/Gracenote:311:Love_Song)  
> [Broken – Lifehouse](http://lyrics.wikia.com/Gracenote:Lifehouse:Broken)

~ooooOOOoooo~

 

It was too hot, almost blinding. Sam found himself being pulled back as he charged unthinking towards the blaze, his only thought to reach Dean. Gabriel’s will whip-cracked across the bond as his hands turned Sam away, forcing Sam to look at him. “Holy fire burns humans, too; remember?”

Sam’s expression immediately darkened into his sourest bitchface. “Yeah, but it won’t instantly _kill_ me.”

“Let’s see if we can get them out of there _without_ anybody needing skin grafts, okay?” Gabriel glanced around as Dean and Castiel appeared outside. “Where’s the car?”

“Around front,” Dean called. “Fire extinguisher ain’t big enough for this, though. You okay, Sammy?”

“Be better once we get you outta there!” Sam cast about, desperately thinking. “What about a rainstorm… you could create one, right? An illusion would still put this out?”

“Not without fucking over the weather system for half the planet.” Gabriel’s voice was grim. “No immortal screws with weather patterns, even with illusions, unless absolutely necessary; even then, it has to be set in motion months in advance to keep things balanced.”

Castiel’s eyes scanned the area, clearly searching for something. “The water table is high enough to access. We would only need a small breach in the ring to escape.”

Nodding, Gabriel’s golden eyes lost focus. Sam could feel it build like a roar in his mind: power shimmering through Gabriel’s grace, reaching into the dark earth… swelling… the size of it staggered him, dwarfed him… demon-blood highs had never been so _vast_ …

Water rushed up from the ground as if a sponge had been squeezed, soaking the earth in a five-foot swath and extinguishing part of the ring. “Don’t have all day!” Gabriel shouted. “Let’s move this party along, shall we?”

Castiel broke into a run behind Dean, who had sprinted through the muddy earth to Sam’s side and caught his brother in a fierce bear hug. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Fine.” Sam pulled back, wanting to say a thousand things and knowing there was no time. “We gotta go. Gabriel?”

The water receded, and the roaring in the back of Sam’s mind faded with it. “Car. It’s slow, but Cas and I should be able to see him coming.”

It wasn’t until they reached the Impala and Dean had literally put the gas pedal on the floor, Sam in the passenger seat and angels in back behind their respective Winchesters, that Castiel sensed it. “Gabriel?”

“Not now, Castiel.” Gabriel purposefully didn’t look at his younger brother, his eyes scanning the blur of blue and green and brown as if he thought he might spot Lucifer out the window, while Dean broke every traffic law on the books. He knew what Cas had sensed; he could feel what had happened between Castiel and Dean, a warning pulse to other immortals that this human was claimed and under powerful protection. _God-marked, they used to say… these two are god-marked twice over… we’ve all lost our minds…_

“What have you done?” The question was growled out in Enochian, Cas’ blue eyes flashing in his unwillingness to let the subject drop.

“Nothing more or less than you, brother,” Gabriel snapped back, his own Enochian clipped and his golden eyes sparking. “And precisely what you asked of me. Now help me watch for Morningstar or figure out what that buzzing sound is; it’s irritating as Hell.”

* * *

“Dean, they can hear you swearing in China.”

The mild statement earned Sam a fulminating glare from his elder brother, which only got a mocking bitchface in return. “Sonuvabitch put a lojack on the _Impala_ , Sam. Some demon lackey _touched **my car**_.”

“He puts any more umbrage in that tone and I’m gonna think he’d be less upset about a demon feeling him up.” Gabriel grinned at Sam from where he lounged against the wall of the abandoned garage/gas station, eating a peach from a nearby tree in a way that was just short of obscene. Sam couldn’t help grinning back.

Castiel was ignoring all of them, his brow furrowed pensively as he finished his examination of the Impala. “No other trackers are attached. That was the only one.”

“Good; I can take it down to parts once we get someplace livable,” Dean snarled. Confusion and hurt and guilt still roiled beneath the surface after what had been forced between he and Castiel at the house, and the Impala having a tracking beacon left by Crowley after their last meeting was adding a healthy dose of irrational fury to an already bad mix. “Make sure they didn’t do anything else to it.”

Sam shook his head. He recognized what was obviously an attempt on Dean’s part to find an excuse to not talk about what had happened. Dean hated ‘chick flick moments’. “Dean, we’d have noticed it by now if they had. You know this car better than anyone.”

“Not taking chances,” Dean insisted, his eyes hard as agates and his jaw set in a stubborn line. “Not with the Apocalypse still going down.”

“Suits me just fine.” Gabriel finished his peach and tossed the pit into the air. It vanished where it peaked, and Sam felt the ripple that told him Gabriel had planted it in the orchard. “Game’s changed entirely, after all; need to get everybody up to speed on the new rules.”

Dean was about to snarl another rejoinder when Cas’ hand found his left shoulder. All the fight seemed to drain out of Dean in that moment, warm languor stealing over his senses. It didn’t matter. It was too much to hope that Gabriel didn’t know just by looking at them. Sam would have to be told, if Gabriel hadn’t told him already. He would need Sam’s help to research ways to undo the binding anyway… and Bobby’s, too… if Bobby didn’t just shoot Dean and put him out of his misery.

He didn’t want to be miserable. No one else in his life had ever come close to meaning what Cas meant to him. They’d started off completely wrong; Hell, Dean had shot Castiel multiple times and stabbed him in the shoulder when they’d first met. Cas had never held it against him, never brought it up, as if the fact that Dean had thanked Cas for resurrecting him by trying to kill the angel wasn’t worth discussing. And over time…

Over time, so slowly it couldn’t possibly have had a single beginning point, Dean had fallen in love with an Angel of the Lord.

Dean Winchester had done some impressively stupid things over the course of his life. He was a hunter of supernatural creatures, after all, and that required a certain lack of self-preservatory instinct. But falling in love with a creature that literally transcended him was beyond the pale in his book, and that wasn’t even counting the fact that said creature was currently inhabiting the body of a man with a wife and daughter in Illinois.

He wasn’t dumb enough to think that this bond Lucifer had forced Castiel to complete was something he could have forever. He wasn’t about to be _that_ stupid.

Cas could feel every emotion battering Dean’s heart to pieces inside his chest, longed to soothe them. He wasn’t sure he could. The balm of grace and love he kept pouring through their bond at Dean was only staving it off; Dean was fighting it every inch of the way, once again reacting as though he didn’t deserve healing, or love. Didn’t deserve to be saved from his own darkness. _We need to go somewhere safe… Dean and I have much to work out… and I must explain to him that the true nature of the bond makes it impossible to force such a thing on us._ “Gabriel, do you know where Bobby Singer’s home is?”

Sam, unthinking, showed Gabriel through their link, images springing to mind in an instant. Gabriel’s surprise only registered on Sam, not showing on his face but flickering across the bond they shared. “Yeah. No problem.” He snapped his fingers.

* * *

Bobby eyed the Trickster who had walked into the house with the Winchester boys with barely veiled suspicion. “You idjits wanna explain why a Trickster we killed three years ago is standin’ in my living room eatin’ a candy bar like he belongs here?”

Dean tried not to visibly wince at Bobby’s tone. He’d known this conversation wouldn’t be easy. Sam was immediately wearing his placating face. “He’s not a Trickster… not really. He’s an angel.”

“An angel?” Bobby echoed, one eyebrow lifting clear up under the band of his customary cap. “Masquerading as a Trickster?”

“Archangel, actually.” Gabriel finished his candy bar, taking in the varied occult paraphernalia in Bobby’s living room. “These two morons blew my cover months ago.”

“Cover?” The other eyebrow shot up.

Gabriel spared Bobby a sardonic glance. “We’re gonna be at this all day if you keep repeating everything we say.”

Sam’s hand shot up as Bobby bristled, gesturing for Bobby to stay calm. “It’s complicated, Bobby.”

“World ain’t ended yet,” Bobby replied testily, clearly indicating they _would_ make time and explain things… or else.

Sensing it, Gabriel unconsciously stepped closer to Sam, his grace rising at the implication of a threat to his mate. Sam swung around when Bobby’s eyes went wide; Gabriel’s face was bleak, eyes bright and blazing. “Gabriel… it’s fine. You and Cas should go ward the house… just in case.”

For a moment, Gabriel’s attention shifted and he stared down at Sam, measuring the surety in those hazel eyes against the possibility of harm. Sam could feel the struggle, knew Gabriel wouldn’t leave unless Sam was safe… Gathering up his memories, Sam played back every time Bobby’d made them bunk down for a decent meal and a safe night’s sleep instead of hitting the road again. Every heart-to-heart he’d been there to give in their father’s place. Every time he saved their skins, including the image of Bobby taking on the chainsaw killer that had nearly cut Sam into fish bait during their first encounter with Gabriel. _It’s okay, mate… Gabriel… I’ll be safe. I promise._

A handful of heartbeats passed, and then Gabriel’s grace relaxed. “C’mon, bro… let’s give the kids a minute to talk.”

Flashing Dean a glance, Castiel tried to bury his hurt when Dean refused to meet his eyes, and he followed Gabriel out without a word. Dean had to force himself to breathe; Cas’ gaze had burned on his skin, and he wasn’t looking forward to the conversation he was about to have. “How’d you do that, Sam?”

“Do what?” Sam knew innocence probably wouldn’t play, but he could try.

“Make the archangel stop looking like he was gonna smite Bobby.”

For a moment, Sam considered prevaricating. It wasn’t a conversation he knew how to have with anyone, and he was sure Dean would be furious. But the glimpse he’d caught of Dean’s mind… of his heart, raw and wounded and bleeding… secrets were the last thing they needed between them. And sooner or later, it would out anyway. “Um… yeah… okay, well… there’s something I need to tell you guys… and you’re probably not gonna like it, or at least you’ll think I’m crazy, but I’m glad it happened, and it’s a good thing, really…”

“Fuck, Sammy,” Dean growled. “Spit it out before you give yourself an aneurysm.”

“GabrielandIaremated.”

The words came out so fast, Sam wasn’t sure Dean and Bobby had caught them. He held Dean’s gaze in their wake, unashamed; this was nothing like Ruby, and he needed to see Dean’s reaction.

Viridian eyes went wide, huge, blind with a hundred emotive flickers all at once. Color drained from his skin, leaving Dean almost ashen, and his mouth dropped open in a silent ‘o’ of dismay. And then, just as quickly as it had opened up in blatant shock, Dean’s entire face slammed shut. Only his eyes remained blind blue-green windows of tangled emotions Sam didn’t want to name, his Adam’s apple bobbing as Dean fought to breathe through his nose, his lips sealed so tightly they were edged white.

Bobby found his voice first. “Son… are you… do you mean what I think you mean?”

Sam couldn’t, wouldn’t look away from Dean. He wasn’t ashamed of this. This wasn’t the same as Ruby. Ruby had been wrong; in the marrow of his bones, he’d known it, but the whole world had been wrong and Sam hadn’t cared. But Gabriel… being mated to Gabriel was right in all the ways Ruby hadn’t been, and he knew it just as deeply… deeper… in his blood, his heart, his soul. “I don’t know what you think it means, Bobby. I only know that he’s mine and I’m his, and Lucifer can’t use me as a vessel because of it.”

That got a blink out of Dean, a crack in the wall that had slammed down between them. Sam was desperate to know what Dean was thinking, needed to know that this was going to be okay. After clawing their way back to trust, to respect, this couldn’t tear them apart again. Sam wouldn’t allow it.

Dean was trying not to visibly react again, clamping down on everything as Lucifer’s words bubbled up from the haze over his memory; only a few hours had passed, though it felt like years ago. _“And if you complete the bond, Michael can never claim him… Decide quickly, brother… will you damn yourself? Or the world?”_

_Did Gabriel do to Sam what Cas did to me? What the Hell’s the point? If Lucifer wanted Cas and I bound… did he plan this with Gabriel? Wouldn’t put it past the bastard… either of ‘em…_

“Dean?” Sam’s tone was careful, searching, as if he was prodding a bear to see if it was alive. “Dean, this is a good thing… Gabriel can help us; he wants to help us. And if Lucifer can’t use me-”

“How do you know?” Dean rasped, his throat tight as a vice on the words.

Sam blinked. “What?”

“How do you know the bonding or mating or whatever the Hell you call it is gonna keep the devil from using you as a prom dress?”

“Gabriel told me when he-”

Dean snorted, a sarcastic ‘I shoulda known’ smile bitterly twisting his lips. “And you believe him? After all the crap he’s pulled?”

“He’s telling the truth, Dean.” Sam felt an edge of panic, tamping it down in case Gabriel noticed. The idea that Dean would think it was a trick had never occurred to him.

“Yeah, ‘cause he’s got a track record of doin’ that when he’s not trapped in a ring of holy fire.” Dean snorted again. “Dammit, Sam: you really gonna fall for his game, after everything that’s happened? He hasn’t changed; he’s still the same dickhead that iced me better’n a hundred times just so he could fuck with your head, then stuck us in his little TV Land game because… wait for it… he _wants_ us to say _‘yes’_. Why the fuck would he offer to cockblock Lucifer now? Think about it, Sam; he’s got some nasty little twist planned-”

“He doesn’t!” Sam flared. “Goddamnit, Dean, I know he’s telling the truth about this. I’ve always known when he’s telling the truth-”

“Like you knew with Ruby, right?”

Sam recoiled as if struck, eyes narrowing, temper rising dangerously. He hadn’t expected Dean to throw Ruby back in his face. Not after everything they’d been through. A soft rush of reassurance came through the bond; Gabriel was listening, after all. Listening and lending support, laced with a touch of surprised gratitude at Sam’s defense. It reminded Sam of all the reasons why, after everything, he was still drawn to Gabriel powerfully enough to accept him as a mate.

“This isn’t the same as Ruby,” Sam managed, his voice cold and even and throbbing with restraint. “Not even close, Dean. Gabriel didn’t want any of this to happen in the first place. He left Heaven because he couldn’t choose between his brothers. TV Land was because he couldn’t see any way to stop it. But something changed his mind and he’s here, now, and I don’t doubt for a second that he’s being honest with me.”

“What?” It was the first word Bobby had even tried to speak since the fraternal altercation had begun in earnest. “What changed his mind?”

“I don’t know,” Sam replied honestly. “We haven’t had a chance to talk. This thing’s only a few hours old; there hasn’t been time-”

“Which means there’s a chance it can still be broken.” Dean’s eyes were brighter now, almost burning.

Sam looked at Dean in shock. “I… I don’t know. Maybe… but-”

Dean looked to Bobby, hope rising. They could research this without needing to talk about what had happened between he and Cas, and Sam had reminded him how new this was. Their best chance was now, before it got too strong, and he could keep Sam safe… they could break this thing before it got worse and he could keep Sammy from falling victim to whatever ploy Lucifer was trying to pull here… Gabriel had wanted them to say yes, and Lucifer’s reason for forcing Cas to complete the bond couldn’t be as simple as he’d stated. There had to be a catch; there was always a catch with angels… even Cas, until he’d rebelled, had played the game of not telling the whole story. “Any binding can be unbound, right? ‘Specially if it’s new?”

“Most, yeah,” Bobby replied cautiously. “But somethin’ like this… prob’ly ain’t been seen since before the Flood, Dean. I wouldn’t have the first idea how to start.”

“But we can try.” Dean felt an edge of desperation, the chance to undo what had been forced on Cas fluttering at his fingertips, just out of reach… “We can break it before it gets too strong, fix this before it’s too late…”

“Too late for what, Dean?” Sam fiercely tamped down on his temper. He could see the raw edges around Dean’s expression. Something wasn’t right, but he didn’t dare try to push and use the bond to find out. He wasn’t used to it yet, as comfortable and instinctive as it felt. And it would only freak Dean out more. “I don’t _want_ to break it. This is a huge advantage for us… for the _world_ … and I… I want this, Dean. It feels right with him. For the first time in my life, it actually feels right with someone… even Jess never felt like this…”

The aching, puppy dog eyes almost broke Dean in two. Sam had shown a weird connection to the Trickster… to Gabriel… back in Wellington. Dean wasn’t blind; it only stood to reason that something happened at Mystery Spot that Sam wouldn’t talk about. But Dean couldn’t forget Lucifer wearing Sam in 2014, couldn’t forget the mockery of Sam’s puppy-dog expression the angel had worn.

Everything was hurtling towards that moment, and Dean was gripping Sam with all of his strength. He couldn’t let go… he was rescuing Sam from the fire all over again, and he couldn’t let go… if he let go, Sammy was gonna die…

Having sensed Dean’s distress, ignoring Dean’s discomfort with the bond, Cas reappeared. “Dean…?”

Cas’ voice broke through the haze, and Dean took in a sharp breath. “Thought you were warding the place,” he snapped, edgy and defensive.

“The wards are in place; Gabriel is closing the perimeter of the salvage yard,” Cas replied. “You are upset.”

“You’re damned right I am!” Dean exploded, rounding on Cas as he came to his feet. “Did you know what that sonuvabitch did to Sam?”

“I sensed the bond, yes.” Cas met Dean’s fury calmly, unflinching as he always was. Dean’s fury was nothing in comparison to the rage of immortals, and Cas knew that more often than not, Dean vented it at him because he wasn’t intimidated by it, whether it was actually caused by him or not. “Gabriel has explained to me why he offered himself to Sam as a mate; the intent is genuine.”

“So you believe him, too,” Dean sneered. “He’s even got you snowed with this crap?”

Castiel’s eyes narrowed in anger. Dean was coming dangerously close to insulting their own connection, and that Castiel would not abide. “He is not lying about the effect of the bond, Dean,” he said, carefully controlling his tone.

For one long, tense moment, Dean stared at Cas, willing him to say nothing, silently begging him not to say anything about their own bond, no older than Sam and Gabriel’s. Cas merely gazed back, concealing how much that hurt, concealing how much all of this wrenched at him… after everything he had done for Dean…

The barest edge leaked through, and Dean couldn’t help flinching as it flared across the bond they now shared like a festering wound. Looking away from Cas, Dean fixed his gaze on Sam. “I’m gonna go work on the car. You’re gonna pull your head out of your ass, and we’re gonna figure out a way to undo it. I don’t trust the reasons behind it, and if you can’t figure out why, then we’re in deeper shit than I thought.” Without waiting for an answer, Dean stalked outside.


	2. Belonging - Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please see Chapter One for the warnings, notes, disclaimers and song list.

~ooooOOOoooo~

 

As the tension in the room dropped, following Dean out the door, Sam risked a glance at the older hunter who had become a surrogate father to them. “Bobby?”

The question in Sam’s tone was almost heartbreaking. Bobby rolled back from the desk and around to Sam’s chair, placing a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “Don’t quite know if I understand it, Sam, but I figure we got enough problems without making more. If this is what you want, I’ll get my head around it. In the meantime, nothin’s changed ‘bout the fact that you two idjits need a safe place to bunk once in a while, even if you are totin’ a pair of angels around now, and this place’ll always be that.”

Sam’s lip quivered, just slightly, and then he was turning and pulling Bobby into a fierce, grateful hug. When they let go, Sam took a deep breath. “Listen, uh… with Dean working on the Impala, I’ll need to borrow the Chevelle. We’re getting kinda low on supplies, and there’s probably a few things you need, too.”

“Yeah… list’s on the fridge.” Bobby gave Sam an awkward smile as Sam rose and headed for the kitchen. He figured he understood these two boys better than anyone else, having known them for most of their lives. Of the two, Dean was usually the easier to predict; he had more heart than John Winchester, but there was much of the father in the elder son. But becoming mated to an angel wasn’t something Bobby could’ve imagined either brother doing, even on his craziest day.

Then again, both Winchester boys needed someone strong enough to handle everything that Fate seemed determined to hurl at their heads. Someone that could understand the darkness they had lived through, lived in every day, carried with them as shadows across their hearts. Someone that they didn’t have to try and protect while they fought… someone that could watch their backs.

An archangel cum demigod, male or female, probably fit that bill for Sam better than any human ever could. Better than any creature born in the shadows. And then there was the angel that raised Dean out of Hell…

While Sam was making some quick additions to the list in the kitchen, Bobby glanced up at Castiel. “Something happened between you and Dean, didn’t it? Something like the Trickster and Sam?”

For a moment, Castiel considered continuing to conceal the truth. Sam was distracted, not listening to their quiet conversation. “Yes,” he replied finally. “Though I believe Dean does not want it known because he wishes to find a way to reverse it. If he becomes aware that you know, he will possibly become violent.”

“Oh, Hell: I ain’t sayin’ a damn thing to that boy ‘til he calms down a mite.” Bobby shook his head. “Both these boy’s’ve got tempers, case you hadn’t noticed.”

“I had.” Castiel stepped forward. “Do these mating bonds make you uncomfortable?”

Bobby allowed himself a pause before he answered, gathering his thoughts. “Yes and no. Yes: because I’ve never known either of these boys to look at anything but women; because you’re angels, which, far as I know, means eventually you’re gonna have to leave these boys and they’ve been left enough in their lives; and because there’s a world of hurt out there waiting for people who make lifelong commitments to the same gender and they’ve got enough problems.”

Castiel considered those reasons for a moment, resolving finally to discuss them with Gabriel; the archangel had spent far longer on Earth than he, and had interacted with humans more often even before his self-imposed exile. “And no?”

“No: because you’ve given up damned near everything to help these boys, and if the archangel is willing to give even half that much, then you won’t hurt ‘em willing. Because I ain’t gonna be around to watch over these idjits forever, and somebody’s gotta have their backs that’s strong enough to take what life throws at ‘em. Mostly because they’re the closest thing I’ve got to sons… and I promised Karen back when we thought we might have some of our own that I’d love my kids enough to want ‘em happy, no matter who or what they wound up lovin’.”

Nodding slowly, Castiel began to understand, and was grateful for it. He knew Bobby’s opinion meant a great deal to Dean, even without Dean’s fear of Bobby rejection echoing over the bond they shared. “I understand. You are a good man.”

Bobby snorted, a warmth building in his chest at such a judgment from an angel. It wasn’t the one he expected when he met his end. “Yeah, well… I’ve had to kill her twice. Least I can do is keep the promises I made her. Just don’t go askin’ me for advice about your sex lives and we’ll be fine. I might be willing to be okay with all this, but I got limits.”

“Of course.” Castiel stepped closer. “I will go out and watch over Dean… but before I do, there is something unfinished between us, Bobby.” Bobby’s eyebrow quirked again, but he didn’t have time to ask as Cas closed the distance between them and placed two fingers at Bobby’s temple.

Bobby gasped as radiance burst at the base of his spine, racing up and down like the shuttle on a loom… golden threads of life and light winding through him… around his broken spine… weaving it whole…

When Castiel stepped back, Bobby opened his eyes, blinking and staring at the Angel of the Lord. “I thought you were cut off… that you couldn’t…”

“My grace was rejuvenated,” Cas explained. “I am not entirely sure how, but I am fairly certain that the why is related to something you do not wish to discuss. For the moment, at least, my powers are restored to their full potential… and I owed you.”

Almost hesitantly, Bobby pressed himself up from the wheelchair and stepped clear. He was standing on his own two feet, tears shining in his eyes, when Dean came back in to retrieve keys to one of Bobby’s tool boxes. “Bobby?”

Sam caught the tone in Dean’s voice and stepped to the doorway, staring with huge eyes as Bobby’s face, now much higher in their visual field, broke into a wide, wild grin. They all crossed the room at the same moment, thoughts of angels and apocalypses left behind as both boys embraced Bobby in relief. Cas remained apart, watching them, wishing…

Dean felt it, and he glanced up over Bobby’s shoulder, meeting Castiel’s eyes, tears swimming in his own. “Thank you,” he husked out, the words catching on the lump in his throat, gratitude flowing freely across the bond Dean seemed to have such objection to. “Thank you.”

Castiel smiled softly, absorbing the feel of a good emotion coming from his mate for the first time since they’d joined. If Dean could relax even that much… could trust the bond long enough to let Cas feel how grateful he was for Bobby being healed… then there was hope.

* * *

Bobby walked the entire salvage yard three times. Overwhelmed that he had use of his legs after so long, he simply couldn’t help himself. He walked every inch, inspected the entire perimeter, re-familiarized himself with every twisting path that his wheelchair hadn’t been able to navigate.

True to his word, Dean began the arduous task of taking the Impala’s engine down to parts and inspecting everything. It was easier to think about the car coming apart and going back together again than about everything he’d ever known doing the same thing.

Sam, after hugging the daylights out of a very startled Castiel, had called for Gabriel to accompany him to the grocery store. “We’ve gotta celebrate,” Sam advised solemnly, his hazel eyes twinkling. “And that means real food.”

Gabriel’s answering grin was Trickster, through and through.

Hours later, Castiel stood back while the three humans talked and drank beer and laughed as they cooked on a grill outside. Bobby flatly refused to sit down before the food was ready, insisting that he’d spent long enough on his ass over the last few months.

“I sometimes forget how fragile humans are.”

Cas turned his head to see Gabriel standing beside him. Knowing Dean wasn’t comfortable with his relationship to Sam yet, Gabriel had slipped away when he and Sam had returned from the grocery store on the pretext of taking an inventory of Bobby’s apocalyptic research texts. “After all of your interaction with them over time, I would think you would know that better than anyone.”

Gabriel shrugged. “Not like that, Castiel… I’d forgotten how easily change can break them, if they don’t have something to put their backs against. Humans need anchors. Dean’s almost at his breaking point… and Luci’s little stunt isn’t helping matters. Now that he can’t say yes to Michael…”

“He can,” Castiel replied softly. “As you well know. And he does not want this bond between us; I will have to tell him how it can be broken, eventually.”

For a long moment, Gabriel was quiet. It had been a long time since he’d been in the presence of one of his brothers… the sense of another angel’s grace beside him, warmth and power and love radiating like a beacon, was almost alien to him now, and yet so familiar that it made him want to weep. A piece of himself that he’d refused to allow himself to miss, suddenly returned to him again.

Sam looked up and saw him, a brilliant, beautiful smile lighting his face, and then he beckoned to them.

 _These humans… our humans… so many reasons that Father bid us to love them… so many things that make that far too easy…_ Slinging an arm around Castiel’s shoulders, Gabriel pulled Cas with him. “Come on, little bro… as your older brother, it is one of my sworn responsibilities to corrupt you… and we might as well start with food.”

* * *

If there was a moment of tension when the angels had joined them for dinner, Dean quickly shoved it aside for Bobby’s sake. It was a celebration, a much needed respite, and Dean wasn’t going to blame Cas for what had happened between them. He blamed Lucifer for that, and there would be time enough to get revenge on the bastard for it later.

And Dean had to admit that watching Gabriel teach his angel about opening his vessel’s senses, about learning to enjoy human tastes and smells and experiences, had been one of the most ridiculously sensual experiences of his life. It was all Dean could do not to groan out loud when Cas finally understood the appeal of a well-seasoned, fire-grilled steak, those too-blue eyes closing and his face almost rapturous.

It was ludicrous to Dean that it was taking another angel to teach Cas the upsides of having a human form, but he couldn’t really complain… not when Cas looked like that…

And if Gabriel was concentrating on showing Castiel how to comprehend the joys of human food, he wasn’t doing anything to remind Dean that he and Sam now had a _very_ intimate relationship… which was a win in Dean’s book at the moment. He really didn’t want to become homicidal tonight.

He flatly refused to acknowledge the fact that Sam snuck a kiss to the back of Gabriel’s neck when Bobby was taking the plates inside. Dean also flatly rejected the entire idea that he was actually envious of them. Gabriel had been on Earth for over a thousand years. Any family his vessel might have had was long dead. Jimmy’s family was waiting for him to come home; Jimmy’s daughter was waiting for her father to come home.

Dean wouldn’t be responsible for that never happening. Even if Cas might be willing to keep the bond between them, even if there was a chance in Hell that this wasn’t part of Lucifer’s ultimate plan to get inside Sam’s skin, Dean wouldn’t be the reason that Jimmy never got to go home.

It turned out, however, that Gabriel was not above bribery or chicanery when it came to winning over his new brother- and pseudo-father-in-law. From one heartbeat to the next as Bobby was coming back outside, three neatly sliced made-from-scratch pies appeared on the table, and Gabriel’s eyebrows twitched in amusement. “I believe this is the Winchester family dessert of choice?”

“You got that right,” Sam agreed, hastily digging out a slice of deep-dish apple pie. “Whipped cream?”

Gabriel laughed as a tub of it appeared with a snap of his fingers. “Anything you want, Sammy.”

For a moment, Dean watched Castiel considered his options. He appeared somewhat confused, almost as though he had no idea what to do with the choices before him. Finally, unable to stop himself, Dean selected a slice of peach raspberry and slid it onto Castiel’s plate. “It’s pie, Cas… one of the few good things I’ll ever credit the Big Guy for.”

Castiel turned his head, his lapis eyes catching and holding Dean’s for a long moment. Dean felt the world drop away around him. Everything… everything Dean had ever wanted was in those too-blue eyes… those eyes held nothing short of eternity…

The gaze broke when Dean finally had to blink, and Castiel picked up a fork. “Thank you.”

Dean dug out a slice of the peach raspberry pie for himself and plopped a healthy dollop of the whipped cream onto both their plates, trying desperately to ignore the ‘beloved’ that he felt Castiel tack on across their bond.

* * *

The angels were supposedly going to keep watch over the house while the humans slept. Bobby was more than anxious to sleep upstairs again, and the Winchesters pitched in to get everything set up for the night in the bedrooms Bobby hadn’t been able to get to since his paralysis. They bedded down with tired smiles, the exchange between Sam and Dean careful and not quite tense. Dean still couldn’t get past the idea that the bonds needed to be broken before they led to total catastrophe, and Sam had no idea how to convey to Dean that he trusted Gabriel enough to believe in the archangel’s honesty.

Unable to get comfortable, his mind roiling with half-formed thoughts in the wake of everything that had happened, it took Dean the better part of an hour to finally fall asleep.

_The moon’s pale face hung full and heavy in the night sky, spare clouds crossing it swiftly, driven by high unfelt winds. The shadows waited in anticipation._

_Arms cradled him, lithe and pale as the curve of that moon. Comfort radiated from the being that held him, that had fought through Hell to claim him, blades flashing like stars in the twilight as it battled to reach him. He could feel the strength, eternal and unfathomable, as it carried him effortlessly from the nightmare realm, and could do nothing, say nothing. Could only curl into that powerful, immortal embrace and stay as long as it would be allowed. It was safe here. The heat of Hell was far away, the blood and darkness bathed from him by the light that surrounded his savior._

_His body, buried in a shallow grave, marked with a simple wooden cross. Soft tissue wasted away, clothing in ruins from the chemicals of decay, bone exposed where the desiccated flesh had slithered away. Dean cried out in dismay when he recognized himself, but there was another pulse of comfort, soothing balm pouring from the gentle touch as a hand brushed over his face. “Peace… it will be all right…”_

_He believed it, nestled back into that embrace. Watched as his body was rebuilt, repaired. Decay reversed itself in less time than he would have imagined possible, his skin and muscle knitting back together, closing over his bones. Even his clothing, torn to shreds by the Hellhound and tattered by his body’s dissolution, rewove itself as if new._

_Those hands gently prodded him away from the warm presence. Dean let out another cry, this time in protest. He didn’t want to leave. It was safe here…_

_“You must, little one. You are needed.”_

_“No… I can’t go back… I can’t do it…”_

_“I will join you soon. You will need guidance for what is to come. But you must return; we have work for you.”_

_“Let someone else do it.” He looked into lapis blue eyes… he couldn’t see the face, but he could see the eyes… “There has to be someone else who can… I’m tired. I’m done. Let me stay here, with you… please… I can’t go back there… it’s too hard…”_

_Compassion, bright as the evening star, suffused him as those blue eyes filled with something unnamable… something ancient and immutable… “You must… but you will not be alone…”_

_Against his will, Dean let himself be pressed back into his body by those hands… reached out one last time… “Don’t leave me… please…”_

_“Beloved…” The touch of lips, unseen, brushed over his newly-redrawn mouth. He opened for it, drew it closer, twined his soul around it… he wanted so much… needed to be connected to it somehow… something at his shoulder seemed to burn and he gasped, arching, yearning…_

_As suddenly as it had come, the contact was gone. He was alone, near to weeping at the loss of warmth and light and comfort…_

_“Wake, Dean Winchester… wake now.”_

_The universe dissolved: magnesium blaze and prismatic fractures and searing heat…_

Heat. Tingling waves of heat that roiled beneath the surface of his skin. Dean woke with a sharp cry, stunned by the intensity of it, by the throb and ache in every muscle. By the need that pulsed on every heartbeat. He didn’t dare move, not sure where he would even go to try and escape it. It was everywhere… thick and sharp and pressing in from every side…

“Cas?” The name broke past his lips, an involuntary plea in the dark. No matter how hard he was resisting the bond between them, there was only one person who could make this go away. _He needed…_

The shape of him in the darkness, coming to the bed and sliding in to gather Dean close. Dean’s eyes slid closed and he moaned as the pressure seemed to back off where Cas’ hands made contact with his skin. “I’m here, Dean. I will always be here.”

“Cas, I…” Dean tried to force the words back, tried to force it all back. He was too small to contain what was happening… “I need you…”

Arms wrapped around him, gathering him against Cas’ warm, bare skin. Dean heard himself whimper at the blessed relief of contact. “Then stop fighting it.”

Dean’s mouth drove forward into Castiel’s, crushing and conquering and cherishing all at once, desperate to taste his angel again. God and Hell, but he hadn’t known… had no idea how badly he’d needed the feel of Castiel’s lips beneath his own. Hadn’t realized how long he’d needed it…

Castiel didn’t fight him for dominance, yielded to him instead, gave him the surrender he demanded. Dean couldn’t stop himself; didn’t want to stop. He rolled Cas down and wound his limbs around the angel and ground down against him as if the world would stop turning if he didn’t. Cas arched up into him, fitting heat against throbbing heat, and Dean didn’t know which of them moaned at it… didn’t care. All that mattered was the contact… the fierce, rampaging need for Castiel’s touch…

There was wonder in Castiel’s touch, a reverent, loving awe as his fingers slid over Dean’s skin, tracing scars and curving muscles, and Dean’s hands framed Castiel’s face as he kissed him… pausing every so often to stare down into those eyes… it wasn’t, couldn’t be the same face, but those eyes…

He remembered now: remembered the safety, the comfort. Remembered love he’d done nothing to deserve, tenderness bestowed without thought… Dean remembered now, wondered how he could ever have forgotten…

“You weren’t meant to remember, beloved,” Cas murmured softly, hands stroking the length of Dean’s muscled back in the darkness. “No more than I was supposed to mark you.”

“Why did you, then?” It was important… Dean had never asked a more important question in his life.

Castiel smiled, a crooked smile that actually managed to look a little abashed. “You wanted so badly for me to stay with you… reached for me with everything you are… for a moment, I couldn’t think about you being Michael’s vessel. I couldn’t think about anything… except that I wanted, too.”

“Bad influence right from the beginning, huh?” Dean’s answering smile wavered, hesitation shadowing his eyes. It couldn’t be that easy… this couldn’t be real…

Seizing the moment, Cas flipped their position, lapis eyes dancing. “Yes, beloved… and it just might be the one thing that saves us all.”

A response hovered on Dean’s lips, but Castiel’s bent and found the curve of his left shoulder, tracing a warm path down to the brand, and the words died. All thought died. Castiel wasn’t doing anything except tracing the edges of that mark with a very wet, very agile tongue, and Dean’s erection was twitching insistently against the confines of his boxers with every soft breath Castiel blew across the heated flesh.

It shouldn’t have been natural to let Cas take over. Shouldn’t have made perfect sense for him to let an angel whose sexual history could be measured in hours strip off his sweats and boxers, brushing soft kisses down Dean’s chest, circling his navel, whispering across the skin he bared. It was almost too easy to just give up control, to let Cas touch him with gentle, half-amazed caresses, to let his hands slide into the dark wilderness of Castiel’s hair and guide with gentle pressure, almost hesitant.

Cas’ lips pressed the tiniest, experimental kiss to the weeping tip of Dean’s erection; Dean’s breath exploded in a ragged gasp. Discerning what Dean seemed to want, Cas repeated the gesture, earning a twitch in the muscle of Dean’s thigh and a moan of his name. Intrigued by the reaction, heat blooming under his skin, Cas slowly swept his tongue through the pearlescent liquid.

Dean bucked hard; if angelic reflexes weren’t so fast, he would have smashed into Cas’ nose. Cas’ hands snapped up, locking onto Dean’s hips like iron clamps and holding him down; Dean’s voice broke over a long, shuddering cry as Cas began to explore him in earnest.

Almost mindless, Dean slammed his lips closed, muffling the wanton little sounds Cas’ mouth drew out of him; Bobby was up here, not far away, and the last thing Dean wanted was to deal with Bobby _knowing_. Cas didn’t seem to care, or hadn’t thought of it as a concern; he simply proceeded, learning the way his tongue could curl or his lips could whisper or his fingers could trace, studying the contours of Dean’s arousal, drawing out the jolts and shivers and sounds he wanted from his human.

That single-minded determination was almost more of an aphrodisiac than the way Cas wrapped his lips around the head and sucked, apparently drawing the image right out of Dean’s rapidly-dissolving mind. “No fair ch… cheating,” Dean panted, fingers tugging in Cas’ hair.

Relinquishing Dean’s erection, Cas slid up Dean’s body, settling his weight against Dean’s hips and indulging Dean’s mouth in slow, languid kisses. “You know I have never taken a lover before you, Dean,” Cas whispered softly. “What knowledge I can draw from is limited. How else should I discern your desires?”

Dean shifted, winding around Cas’ body for stability. The hot need that had woken him was easier to bear in Cas’ arms, but it still pulsed under his skin, unrelenting in its hunger. “What about you? What do you want, Cas?”

A faint blush rose on those pale cheeks, and Dean only had a second to wonder at it before Castiel showed him: an image of Dean’s own face, locked in ecstasy, eyes heavy-lidded, mouth open, neck arched and head thrown back. Sensation memory followed: clutching muscles, arms clinging tightly, wet warmth splashing between them.

 _*You are beautiful in your surrender, beloved.*_ Cas’ voice echoed over the memory. _*I want to see it again… always… you belong to me, and I want to see you find grace in my arms.*_

Dean’s eyes went wide, staring up at Cas… Castiel… the Angel of the Lord… _wanted_ him… wanted this… It didn’t make sense. It was utterly impossible; couldn’t possibly work… but something deep and fearful unclenched in Dean’s heart, and Dean wound his arms around Cas’ neck, bringing him down for a deep, open kiss.

Slow, afraid he might chicken out, Dean eased Cas onto his back again, holding the kiss until they got there. Blue eyes blinked open as Dean slid away, trying not to let his hands tremble as he half-rolled off the bed and opened the drawer in the bedside table. No matter where they were or what they were doing, Dean always put lube within easy reach so he could take care of business when the mood struck. Chafing was a bitch, after all.

His hands found the bottle easily in the dark, and he was trembling now as he retreated into Castiel’s arms, kissing that serious mouth and pressing it into Cas’ hands. He trusted Cas… loved Cas, despite how insane it might be…

He’d never been so vulnerable with a lover. Ever.

Just as slowly, impossibly gently, Castiel gathered Dean close and rolled, putting his hunter astride him, above him. Dean let out a soft mewl of confusion as Castiel guided Dean’s hands up to brace against the wall behind the bed, pressed reassuring kisses to Dean’s heaving chest. He was moving forward with no instinct, only understanding what Jimmy had shown him and the need that radiated from Dean along their bond.

Dean couldn’t muffle the cry that escaped when one of Castiel’s hands slid between his braced legs, one slick finger finding him, pressing in… Dean’s hips jerked back towards that hand, towards the pressure he needed, the invasion that wasn’t nearly full enough, his own hands losing the wall and finding white-knuckled purchase on the headboard. “Cassssssss…”

“Yes, beloved.” Castiel stroked, transfixed by the abandoned wreck of desire etched across Dean’s face. Desire for him… need for his mate… another finger slipped in and Dean bit hard into his lip, whimpering pants breaking in his throat. “You are so beautiful, Dean… my Father created such beauty… but I have never seen anything like you…”

“Cas, please.” Dean’s heart hammered against his ribs, pulse skittered at every shift and scissor and stroke of those long fingers. If Castiel didn’t come into him soon, Dean was honestly afraid his body would shake itself to pieces for want of it… “Please, Cas… need it… need you… please, you have to…” A kiss fluttered over his heart, and a third finger found its way inside. Dean jerked, drawing a creak of protest from the bed frame that barely drowned out the gasp that burst from his lungs. “Damn it, Cas…”

“What do you want, Dean? Castiel’s voice was low, controlled, searching. He knew what Dean needed, what Dean begged for… but he needed to know what Dean wanted… to know Dean wanted this, no matter what he’d convinced himself of… another whimper left Dean and his head shook almost brokenly, unable to give it voice… _*This way, beloved…*_ Castiel urged. _*Show me…*_

The images were jumbled, torn at the edges. Dean was too frayed by his desires to make the images clear as Castiel had, and most of them were framed by disbelief that he would ever be able to have what they represented. Amelia and Claire’s faces; his mother in flames, the knowledge of her desire for a normal life behind her agony; climbing from the rack and taking an instrument from Alastair’s offering hand…

But beneath them, within them, Castiel saw what Dean wanted: forever. A home. His family. Hunting, because it was in his blood and he would never deny that as his mother had. Passion that deepened rather than waned with the passage of time. A chance to have what his parents had been denied… and to have it with Castiel. His angel. His savior.

Castiel didn’t know he’d guided Dean down until he heard Dean’s sob of pure relief, felt the almost too-tight grip of Dean’s muscles around his erection. “Oh, beloved…”

Before either could say anything else, Dean released the headboard and pitched his weight to the side. Castiel rolled with him, letting Dean wrap their bodies together, lying on their sides, and Dean wrapped one leg around Castiel’s waist and pulled. “Move, Cas… for the love of anything still holy, _move_ …”

Sealing his lips up against Dean’s, twining his fingers in Dean’s short hair, Castiel took the image from Dean’s mind and rocked deep into his human’s body. Slow and steady, in time with the heartbeat Castiel had set to the deep pulse of universe, until Dean was pulling at his hips, begging for more. More and harder and faster and deeper, and Castiel gave him what he pleaded for, and Dean was pulling Castiel on top of him to get a better angle and clawing at Castiel’s back and crying Castiel’s name without caring who might hear him…

Release struck Dean hard, thundering through his veins and arcing across his nerves, reducing him to helpless shudders as the pressure finally crested and broke in Castiel’s arms. The deep locking grip of Dean’s muscles pulled at Castiel, dragging him into climax only a few strokes later, his grace suffusing Dean’s entire being as his hand found the brand on Dean’s shoulder almost reflexively.

Castiel barely avoided collapsing on Dean entirely, slowly lowering his weight against Dean’s chest for a few moments, unwilling to relinquish the comfortable planes of Dean’s body. Dean was too overcome to speak, couldn’t shake his voice free. The electric heat in his blood seemed to finally, finally die back; it didn’t leave him, not completely, but it had been appeased for the moment, and Dean was simply overwhelmed by how _right_ this felt… _Is this what Sammy meant? About it feeling right between him and Gabriel?_

_*Yes, beloved… it is.*_

_How are we even talking like this? I don’t…_

_*The bond. We have always had a shadow of it, because I marked you. It links us now that it is complete; I will be able to find you despite the sigils now, in life or death, and I belong to you as surely as you belong to me.*_

Opening his eyes, Dean gazed up at Castiel, raw hope tearing at the ragged edges of his heart. _He forced you to do this… you didn’t want to…_

_*He merely forced my hand, Dean. I couldn’t have even started the bond while resurrecting you if I did not want it, and if you did not truly want it, despite your protestations, my grace would have rebounded and destroyed me. The mating bond **cannot** be forced, Dean. It is entered willing, or not at all.*_

_You can force all kinds of magick on people, Cas. I’ve seen it most of my life._

Castiel reached up, cupping Dean’s cheek with a gentle hand. _*The bond is an exchange of love, Dean, and love can never be compelled. It can only be given and returned freely. And I do love you, Dean. I have loved you, whether you believe you deserve it or not, from the moment I took your soul into my arms.*_

Tears gathered, causing Dean’s eyes to shimmer in the darkness. _What about Jimmy? He deserves to go back to his family after all this is over… this… this thing between us…_

 _*You are my **mate** , Dean.*_ Something like thunder cracked in Castiel’s voice, even in the vaults of Dean’s mind: not quite anger and not quite exasperation, all implacable and obdurate as stone. _*It transcends mortal forms, Earthly vessels, heavenly boundaries. If I returned this vessel to James Novak tomorrow and guarded you only in my true form, it would still hold. Even if we both die trying to stop Armageddon, it will not dissipate. Michael cannot use you as a vessel now that we are mated; Lucifer was, for once, not being disingenuous, and Gabriel’s offer to mate with Sam was not part of his plan. You are overthinking this, beloved, because you still refuse to believe that you are worthy of good things. You are. This is real. And I will never leave you again.*_

For a long moment, Dean could only stare up at Castiel, absorbing not just the words but the absolute conviction behind them. The devotion. The _love_. He could reserve judgment about Gabriel’s intentions; no matter what Cas believed, Sam was still Dean’s little brother and Dean wasn’t letting Gabriel get one inch of wiggle room until he was satisfied. But Cas… his angel… if this was really something he could keep…

Hesitant, certain that somehow this fragile house of cards would come tumbling down around him, Dean cast caution to the wind, drew Castiel in and kissed him, long and slow, savoring the taste of eternity on his angel’s lips. _I love you, too._


	3. Belonging – Part Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please see Chapter One for the warnings, notes, disclaimers and song list.

~ooooOOOoooo~

 

A warm rush of wings. The couch melted into a wide, soft bed with deep, warm blankets that invited Sam to snuggle deeper. He did so with a contented sigh that melted into a hum when bare arms slid around his now-naked chest from behind. “Nice,” he murmured. “Real or illusion?”

“Does it matter?” Gentle lips brushed the curve of Sam’s shoulder, sending light, pleasant shivers through Sam’s skin.

“Not a bit.” Rolling in those arms, Sam wrapped around Gabriel and pressed an almost relieved kiss to those smirking lips.

The way Sam just melted into him surprised Gabriel as much as it delighted him. He hadn’t thought Sam would just accept their new connection so easily, especially in light of Dean’s reaction and the fact that Sam had a romantic history that looked like a minefield. But Sam was tangling his body around Gabriel’s like they’d been doing this forever, and his lips were moving on Gabriel’s with unhurried abandon, as if he wanted to savor and memorize the taste of Gabriel’s mouth.

Physical affection had been so absent from Sam’s life for so long, and so much of it had been tinged with darkness and pain, that Sam simply couldn’t turn this away. Gabriel had his reasons, certainly wasn’t telling him everything. Sam knew it. He simply didn’t care. He trusted Gabriel for reasons he couldn’t begin to understand, an instinctive faith that should have had him running for the hills. After all, his track record with his instincts was spotty, to put it charitably.

Maybe it was because even after he’d been revealed as an angel, Gabriel hadn’t treated Sam like an abomination, a filthy demon-blood addict little better than demons themselves. He’d known who and what Sam was for years, and he didn’t care about any of it. An archangel of justice, he had judged Sam and found him worthy of… this. Of tenderness and devotion. Of him.

Gabriel rolled easily as Sam pressed him back, feeling the ache inside Sam for something his human didn’t think he deserved, something he’d thought he could only find if he gave up his family. Sam had spent a lifetime at war, battered and toyed with by forces beyond his control. Torn between his heart and his destiny.

Once, angels had served many roles. Healers and muses and messengers, guardians and guides and intercessors. When the Father had withdrawn, letting His creation spin out His plan without His intervention, the angels had been removed from those roles. Gabriel had turned his face from God in sorrow, believing that the Father had abandoned His children and unable to reconcile himself to doing the same… and now he understood why it had been allowed for so long.

This beautiful, damaged human needed everything angels had once been. Needed love that angels had been formed in time out of mind to give. And Gabriel was, perhaps, the only one Sam would accept it from. _And there’s no way Dad didn’t know that from the start… plans within plans…_

So Gabriel let Sam take what he needed, winding his fingers into the walnut silk of Sam’s hair as Sam kissed him, soft and bittersweet, like he was afraid Gabriel might be torn away if he stopped. Let Sam’s fingers, callused from wielding weapons since childhood, trace the planes of his body with a touch so light Gabriel almost couldn’t feel it, wouldn’t know it was there but for the trickles of sensation that shivered heat in his veins. Let Sam’s lips brush over the trails his fingers blazed, warm and gentle and smooth as satin.

Gabriel keened, a high, liquid note of crystalline want, hard as diamond and thrumming with need as this human, his human, touched him and kissed him like spun sugar that would melt under his fingertips. Worshipped him like the Messenger of God that he hadn’t been in over a thousand years.

Sam lingered, memorizing Gabriel’s body by touch alone, hazel eyes closed as he learned the shape of Gabriel’s desires. He’d been little more than a child when last he’d really loved; Jess hadn’t really known him, but she’d been a promise of a normal life. Madison had come and gone so quickly, too quickly to really be sure… and Ruby had been comfort, flashes of warmth against a heart frozen in vengeance and grief. Ruby had been using him, manipulating him… had never really loved him at all. This, with Gabriel… if it wasn’t love yet, Sam knew it would be. There was no way it couldn’t be… not when it felt so _right_ … fit so perfectly…

A warm open kiss pressed against the crease of Gabriel’s thigh, followed by the warm drip-drop of saline tears. The pain in Sam was overwhelming… so much love to be given… like water spilling out onto the parched earth, it was taken and never really returned. And it had been so long since Gabriel had given anything at all… let alone been given something so precious…

Shifting slowly, Gabriel curled down into Sam’s body. Gentle fingers prodded at Sam’s hip, rolling him onto his side. Sam made a soft, questioning noise, uncertain and honest and tugging at Gabriel’s heart. “S’okay, gorgeous…” Gabriel brushed open kisses over Sam’s hip. Sam whimpered, twitching lightly, sinking delicate teeth into the tender skin of Gabriel’s thigh. “I’m right here…”

A gasp from Sam, almost a sob, and then the warm heat of Sam’s mouth was wrapping around his erection and Gabriel was moaning, his lips pressing against Sam and the vibration of his moans making his human’s arousal twitch against his mouth.

It was almost difficult to concentrate. Sam’s eager tongue was exploring Gabriel as if he were an exotic confection or rare wine… tracing the delicate ridge as if it were something new and fragile that would dissolve if he went too fast… that tongue prodded the leaking tip, sampling the salt taste, and Gabriel focused before he was too far gone to do anything for Sam in return. He traced the web of blue veins in Sam’s arousal with his tongue instead, fingers following the lines of his handprint on Sam’s hip, teasing just a little and making Sam moan around him.

The vibration was shockingly good, mostly because it wasn’t timed or contrived: just heartfelt and deep, an utterly wanton rumble before Sam returned to his exploration, and Gabriel’s breath shook, sending shivers through Sam where even an angel’s breath felt cool against his skin. Gabriel smiled, fitting his fingers over the brand in reverse and squeezing just a little. Sparkles of grace danced through Sam in response, and he gasped and drew Gabriel a little deeper, long fingers digging into Gabriel’s thigh.

He knew he wasn’t going to last. Sam’s mouth was hot and urgent and so beautiful in its novice technique that the archangel was lost almost before he’d begun. But he kept up his own attentions, tantalizing Sam with hints of heat that made Sam whimper brokenly in his throat as Gabriel’s tongue traced long sweeps and soft swirls and sigils of desire against Sam’s arousal, and Sam was redoubling his efforts to make Gabriel fly apart, to make Gabriel feel something even remotely close to what the archangel did to him, until Gabriel was far too close to delay anymore.

Gabriel’s lips wrapped around Sam as release shuddered through him, driving a groan through his mouth that vibrated around Sam as Sam clung to Gabriel, his human quivering and whimpering as the wet heat in his throat and on his own throbbing need set off his own climax.

For long, shaky moments, they stayed as they were: Gabriel’s forehead against Sam’s thigh and Sam hugging Gabriel’s hip. Gabriel could feel some of the tangled knot of angst inside Sam loosen as the world righted itself, and when Sam finally propped himself up on one elbow, Gabriel rolled onto his back and sat up, reaching out and running gentle fingers through Sam’s hair. He wasn’t the Trickster here. He was an Angel of the Lord… Sam’s angel.

Sam would need every inch of the terrible, powerful love that word implied. And Father defend him, Gabriel was actually willing to give it for the first time since Lucifer’s fall.

Hazel eyes widened, startled, and Gabriel realized belatedly that Sam had heard him, or felt him, through their bond. It was disconcerting how quickly Sam was learning to use it, but Gabriel had no time to analyze it before Sam had surged up and was kissing him, all fire and hunger, and Gabriel was kissing him back as Sam tumbled them down into the mattress.

Long heartbeats later, Sam broke the kiss, breathless, eyes shining with tears. “I think I love you, too,” he whispered, his voice catching on the words. “Because if this isn’t love, then I don’t know what to call it.”

“Love’s a big word, gorgeous,” Gabriel replied, devilish smile tugging on his lips and fingers stroking Sam’s tattoo. “Covers all kinds of bases.”

Any response Sam might have managed was cut off when Gabriel dragged him back down for another kiss. Sam willingly sprawled into the archangel, his weight settling against Gabriel’s hips as Gabriel let his legs part to accommodate him. This time, Gabriel wouldn’t let Sam out of the kiss easily, steadily increasing the pressure and the urgency in minute degrees until Sam was whimpering into his mouth, hips writhing against Gabriel’s, hands restless along the planes of Gabriel’s body.

Grace pulsed steadily across the bond as Gabriel bound Sam up in the kiss, tongue teasing at the corners of Sam’s mouth until it opened, drawing Sam’s tongue into his mouth, chasing it right past Sam’s teeth when it retreated to coax it back out again. Sam couldn’t catch his breath until Gabriel wrapped his legs around Sam’s flanks, his thighs pressing hard against the dual handprints that marked Sam as his, and hot, tumescent flesh was brought into sharp contact. He gasped into Gabriel’s mouth and Gabriel let him have half an inch of space, golden eyes burning as they fixed on Sam’s face.

“I want to watch you,” Gabriel murmured, hot and husky and dark with need. “I want to see your face when you slide inside me… I’ll never get tired of watching you, gorgeous…”

Sam’s eyes flew open at that, wide and incredulous, as the fingers of one of Gabriel’s hands retreated from where they were buried in his hair. A bottle was snapped into existence, nestled in the palm of Sam’s left hand. Gabriel’s eyes never left his. “Are you… I could…”

“I trust you, Sam.” The words came from somewhere inside that Gabriel hadn’t thought existed anymore… or at least had been buried for so long that it no longer had the power to surface. Sam brought out the angel in him; always had.

Heart in his throat, Sam leaned down to kiss him again. It was a sharp contrast to Gabriel’s kiss; this was softer, sweeter, as if Sam was thanking him for something. And then Sam’s mouth was tracing the long sweep of Gabriel’s jaw, finding Gabriel’s earlobe and drawing it in. Gabriel’s gasp drowned the sound of the bottle being opened, and Sam tugged at the tender flesh just a little as he slicked the fingers of his right hand, drawing out another moan.

“You like watching me?” Sam whispered. “Maybe sometime, I won’t let you do anything but watch.” Gabriel’s cry choked in his throat, and Sam smiled against the shell of his ear as his fingers found Gabriel’s muscles and began to stroke, massaging until they would let him in. “Yeah… that turns you on, doesn’t it? Maybe after you pierce me… so I can play with ‘em while you watch… you are going to pierce me yourself, aren’t you?” Another strangled sound that might have been an affirmative broke past Gabriel’s lips, and Sam slowly pressed one finger inside.

He was lost for a moment in the way Gabriel’s muscles gripped at his finger, as if they hungered for more, for anything Sam might give. Sam tested the limits, stroking carefully, adding a second when Gabriel actually whined. “Yeah… you’re not gonna let a stranger do it,” Sam continued, amazed that Gabriel seemed so helplessly aroused by the sound of Sam’s voice and the feel of Sam’s fingers working deep inside him. “You’re gonna do it yourself… leave your mark on my nipples just like you did on my hips… and I’m gonna let you…”

A keen, almost too high to sound human, and Gabriel was fisting the sheets in a desperate attempt not to manhandle Sam until Sam was buried inside him. Sam knew it, sensed it through the bond, shifted between Gabriel’s thighs and slowly withdrew his hand, guiding himself into Gabriel as slowly as he dared.

Gabriel’s hands snapped up, finding the long plane of Sam’s back and gripping hard enough to bruise. Sam’s breath punched out of his lungs as he slid deeper, overwhelmed by the heat… the heat was incredible… and so tight that Sam was almost afraid to move, afraid of hurting Gabriel, afraid of losing control like he hadn’t done since high school.

 _*You feel so damn good, Sam…*_ Gabriel’s mouth latched onto Sam’s collarbone, nibbling and suckling until Sam cried out. _*Like nothing in an eternity’s ever felt…*_

Undone, Sam slid to the hilt, gathering Gabriel into his arms as Gabriel locked his legs around Sam’s waist. Without thinking, Sam pulled Gabriel up and braced him against the wall, devouring the archangel’s lips and pulling back slow, slower than he’d entered, only to push back in hard. Gabriel bucked against him, gasping, thighs clenching against Sam’s waist and heels digging into Sam’s buttocks as Sam took him, hard and deep and almost reckless, needing to feel Gabriel come apart in his arms.

“Wanna feel you,” Sam murmured, his voice dark and hot in Gabriel’s ear. It figured that God’s Herald would get off on being talked to in bed. “Only ever had women come on my cock… I want you to come while I’m buried in you… want you to know it’s me… not one of your illusions… Want to feel you shoot until you’ve got nothing left… want to hear you begging me to come in you. You want me to, don’t you, mate? You need me to.”

Gabriel clung to him, keening and clutching at Sam’s shoulders, wanton and breathless as any human… Sam wanted to see more… wanted… his hand shifted, feeling its way along the muscles leaping in Gabriel’s back. A half-strangled warning rang in Gabriel’s throat as Sam’s fingers found the spot he wanted and pressed in… massaged hard, matching the rhythm of his hips… “Come on, Gabriel,” Sam urged. “Come on, angel…”

Power and grace erupted, knocking both of them back flat into the mattress again. The snap of the overtaxed wooden bed frame was lost as Gabriel shifted the angle between them and rode Sam hard, the pleas Sam wanted spilling from his lips in a dozen languages. Sam reached up, sinking his long fingers into the silken mantle of opalescent feathers, carding through the down and strumming along the web of delicate bones. Gabriel’s voice cracked, almost warbled, as the scent of lilies and strawberries rose thick in the air and grace crackled around and through them like lightening…

Sam’s fingers dug in for leverage and he arched up hard as Gabriel slid down. Gabriel’s entire body jerked as Sam slammed into his prostate, his wings shuddering as he exploded across Sam’s chest with a long cry. Power sparked through his entire body, a live charge that shot up Sam’s spine and radiated over every nerve and Sam couldn’t have held his own climax if he’d tried, erupting as Gabriel’s name tore raggedly from his throat.

Barely, he was conscious of releasing Gabriel’s wings, of the liquid cooling and congealing on his skin, of his pulse slowing in his veins. He couldn’t take his eyes off Gabriel, who looked utterly dazed, tremors still rippling through his wings as he came down from his orgasm. His skin glistened in the dim light, golden eyes sparking with residual grace, those sinful lips parted and swollen and begging to be kissed again.

Sam couldn’t remember seeing anything more beautiful in his entire life.

“I think we broke the bed,” were the first words Sam could manage.

A shaky laugh bubbled from Gabriel’s lips, and his wings folded back as he disengaged from Sam and nestled into his hunter’s side. A whisper of power curled through and around them, cool and gentle; Sam watched in fascination as the remnants of passion flickered away. “Not a bad thing in my book,” Gabriel replied, a sated grin firmly in place.

“Was that… okay, then?” Sam felt a little off-balance; talking about sex wasn’t something he’d done with anyone but Dean, and those discussions were little more than sibling competition. But what had just happened between them… the urges Gabriel drew out of him… Sam needed to know where the lines were. What was and wasn’t allowed.

One eyebrow lifted almost sarcastically. “You couldn’t tell?” Sam blushed scarlet in response, and Gabriel took pity on him. “ _You’re_ what I want, gorgeous. There’s not much I won’t try… not much I haven’t already tried, in one form or another. And you keep managing to surprise me, which isn’t easy.”

Reassurance pulsed through the bond, and Sam tangled closer, leaning in for another kiss. “So… all the Trickster stuff was foreplay, wasn’t it? Like kids on a playground, throwing mud at someone they’ve got a crush on?”

Gabriel’s grin broadened as he pressed into Sam’s longer frame. Sam’s breath shallowed as he felt the archangel’s already-hard length fitting against his hip, kindling his own interest again like a flash-fire. “If I said yes, would you put out?”

“I’m gonna be sore tomorrow,” Sam hedged, rolling onto his back and pulling Gabriel with him. “And if Dean notices, he’ll bitch. Pie won’t buy you off his shit list forever.”

“Sam, Sam, Sam.” Gabriel was still grinning, punctuating each repetition of Sam’s name with a quick kiss to Sam’s lips. “Phenomenal cosmic powers; you think I can’t whammy some achy muscles?”

Sam’s knees drew up, letting Gabriel’s weight settle more firmly where Sam wanted it most. His erection twitched in appreciation. “What if I want to be?” he murmured, running his tongue up Gabriel’s throat and drawing a moan from his angel. “So I can feel you inside me all day long?”

A low sound, almost like a growl, and Gabriel’s thumbs brushed over Sam’s nipples. Grace shot through Sam like a bullet, his spine arching of its own volition and a wrecked, wanton sound breaking in his throat. “Trust me, gorgeous,” Gabriel purred. “I’ll leave reminders in all _sorts_ of places before morning.”

* * *

Waking slowly, dawn light filtering through the curtains, Sam realized he was back on Bobby’s couch, back in his pajamas. Gabriel’s grace still thrummed in his veins, an aftermath of passion that Sam hoped he would feel for hours, if not days. Instead of a darkness he was constantly trying to make peace with, it was light, love, finding all of his jagged edges and fitting against them until they were smooth and clean and soft again.

_*No angst before breakfast, gorgeous. I’ll be back in a few minutes; just have to handle something.*_

Sam thought about asking what, but decided against it. Nothing about their arrangement dictated that Gabriel was going to abandon his role as a Trickster, and Sam wasn’t sure he exactly wanted him to, either. Gabriel was being true to himself, in one of the few ways left to him, meting out divine justice as he saw fit. He wasn’t sure Dean would agree or accept it, but Sam did.

Thinking of Dean brought back the previous night, and the fight in this very room that had been set aside temporarily in order to celebrate Bobby being healed. _There has to be a way to make Dean understand… some way to make him see that we can trust Gabriel… why I trust Gabriel…_

Without really thinking about it, more out of habit than anything else, Sam scanned the room, seeking something that would be of use. It was impossible that something would be… Sam couldn’t think of anything that might change Dean’s mind…

Until his eyes fell on his duffel bag, tossed casually in the corner. Deep in the bottom of the bag, tucked into a hidden pocket, was the one thing that might show Dean another side of the Trickster/archangel. That might convince Dean that Sam had valid reason to trust Gabriel.

It was something Sam had never wanted to show Dean; had promised himself Dean would never know about. But time and circumstances had changed things considerably, and Sam couldn’t afford to let even one opportunity pass him by.

Feeling the soft twinge of well-worked muscle but no real soreness, Sam managed a half-smile as he fetched and opened his duffel bag, sending Gabriel a quick thought asking for fresh exotic fruit for breakfast.


	4. Belonging – Part Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please see Chapter One for the warnings, notes, disclaimers and song list.

~ooooOOOoooo~

 

“You want to know why I believe him?”

Dean rolled out from under the Impala, his expression carefully blank as he gazed up at Sam. There was something deep and resolved beneath the bitchface his little brother wore and he was just gazing right back at Dean, every line of his body taut as a bowstring. Sitting up, Dean rested his arms on his bent knees and held that quiet hazel gaze. “Yeah… I do.”

A book hit him in the chest, dropping into his hands when they retracted to catch it. “Read that then.”

Looking down at the book, Dean was surprised to see Chuck’s pen name on the spine… and cover art taken from a very memorable flyer.

_**Supernatural: Mystery Spot** _

Before Dean could speak, or ask, Sam had turned and walked away.

* * *

He’d never really been interested in reading the books Chuck had published. The series was about their lives, after all; Dean had been in the thick of it, lived every ounce of fear and adrenaline and hope. Felt the pain and remembered the ghosts of it. Scrubbed the blood from his clothes and nursed the wounds long after Chuck’s prose faded to black with a clever closing line.

Reading _**Mystery Spot**_ provided a perspective Dean hadn’t considered before: Sam’s. And here it was, in all its glory.

The book was all from Sam’s point of view, from the very first Tuesday to the moment they’d left Broward County together. Anguish radiated from every line: Sam’s grief and desperation and increasing urgency as Dean died in front of his eyes again and again. The struggle to change something… anything… that would mean the difference between watching the light fade in Dean’s eyes and watching the light fade in the distance as they drove out of town.

And then that first Wednesday…

The Wednesday Sam had never told him about. The Wednesday when Kel had shot him in the motel parking lot, and there was no restart. No Huey Lewis. Just a corpse to be buried. Tears to be shed. And a Trickster to find.

Sam’s thoughts for six long months filled the pages. In the cold grip of vengeance, Sam had isolated himself from everyone, including Bobby. He worked with calculated precision, gathering every scrap of intel he could, running down every possible incident that might have been Gabriel. Dean could feel the anger… rage… driving Sam to hunt a being more powerful than any they’d faced at the time, other hunts almost afterthoughts.

And he’d been alone. No Ruby. No other hunters. No demon blood or pacts with creatures of shadow. Just Sam. Methodical, angry, unrelenting Sam.

Who wouldn’t stop until he ran the Trickster to ground.

It was an image of his brother Dean had never glimpsed before. When he imagined Sam without him, in the wake of his death, he always imagined something like what had happened during his four months in Hell: Sam unrepentantly indulging in demon blood, screwing demons or other supernatural creatures, using the powers given to him by the demon that had killed their grandparents and mother. Sam had always been the one to walk away, and Dean was always the one asking him to come back.

This was the Sam he’d never known: a Sam lost without his brother, so driven to get Dean back that he would drive a stake through Bobby’s heart to do it. Would beg the Trickster unashamed, tears standing in his eyes, having nothing to offer in exchange, nothing to tempt or bargain or threaten with.

_“He’s my brother…”_

In his heart of hearts, Dean had never really been sure Sam had reciprocated the force of Dean’s love for him. Sam and Gabriel’s voices sounded in his mind as though they were acting out this last exchange for him as he read, and Dean felt his own tears gathering as it finally felt possible that Sam really did love him back.

_“The hug he folded his brother into was fierce, but not rough and tumble like so many in their relationship had been. Sam had battled too long against too much anger and guilt and self-loathing; there was no fire left for sharper emotions. Only love, deep and binding and humble, as Sam wrapped Dean’s body against his own and fought back tears of pure relief._

_He felt Dean stiffen, knew his brother didn’t understand. “How many Tuesdays did you have?” Dean’s tone was bewildered as he returned the hug._

_“Enough.” Sam couldn’t be sure what his voice betrayed, wasn’t sure he cared. They were going to leave together, the way they were supposed to, and that was all that mattered._

_In that moment, Sam swore to himself never to tell Dean what had really happened. It was better that Dean didn’t remember, and Sam could live with Dean thinking he was a giant girl; he was used to that… and after everything that had happened, he owed Dean a comforting lie. Dean carried enough weight. Sam was okay carrying this alone. He could do that for his brother._

_Dean was his weakness, after all.”_

Lying in the shadow of the Impala, Dean closed his eyes and leaned back as he set the slender volume aside. Sitting and reading as long as he had, Dean hadn’t really noticed the light burn in his muscles until now. He’d been ignoring it since he’d woken… ignored Castiel, too. The rumpled angel had held him all night, gazed at him from sex-tangled sheets when Dean had left the bed that morning, all the while looking _entirely_ too tempting for Dean’s equilibrium. But he could think about how he was going to handle that later.

It was patently obvious that Dean hadn’t given Sam nearly enough credit over the years. His brother had lived two long years in Gabriel’s illusion; six months of it alone with nothing but grief and rage for companions. Forty years in Hell, experiencing every torture imaginable and doling out more than a fair share of it, Dean had thought he’d experienced every kind of pain that could be inflicted on a human soul.

But he’d known the entire time that Sam was alive.

If he’d spent his time in Hell watching them kill Sam over and over… spent any of that time thinking Sam was dead and he was helpless to bring his brother back to life… Dean wasn’t sure he’d have lasted two years before he was coaxed off the rack. But Sam hadn’t broken, hadn’t yielded, wouldn’t be deterred or distracted or denied. For two years, Sam had endured a Hell not even Alastair could have dreamed up for the Winchesters.

All because Gabriel had been desperately trying to warn Sam of the shit storm poised to break over their heads.

_Dammit… I really wanted to hate the bastard._

It was almost ridiculously logical when Dean considered it. Sam’s desire to recruit the Trickster for Team Free Will in Wellington had rankled, making no sense in light of Dean’s repeated demise at the godling’s hands. And the fact that he hadn’t descended into Hell after any of those deaths, especially that last Wednesday, made even less sense… until Gabriel’s true identity was added into the equation… an archangel in hiding, willing to try anything that might keep his brothers from killing each other, unwilling to choose a faction in a fratricidal war.

Gabriel had known, or at least could have reasonably predicted, what would have happened to Dean in Hell and that the Host would have mobilized to rescue him. If any of his cyclical deaths at Mystery Spot had sent Dean to Hell, then pulled him back out, every angel in Heaven would’ve known where Gabriel was. And if Gabriel was trying to prevent the Apocalypse from getting started, he wouldn’t have chanced Dean going to the Pit and deciding to get off that rack.

It was enough to make Dean wonder just where Gabriel had stashed his soul after all those deaths… especially the last one, when Kel had shot him and he’d spent six months moldering in a shallow grave before Sam convinced Gabriel to put it right again.

Sam must have put the pieces together after the TV Land trick; the moment Gabriel had said his real name, Sam must have seen Mystery Spot in an entirely new light, just as Dean now did. And Sam had kept the truth a secret even then, refusing to add to the burden Dean already carried. The world was cracking into pieces around them, and Sam still refused to cause his brother more pain… exactly as Dean would have done in his place.

Lucifer behind Sam’s eyes rose in Dean’s vision. _“I’m sorry… it must be painful: speaking to me in this… shape.”_

Dean understood. Oh, God, did he understand.

And maybe it was time to let go of the secrets. To stop nursing hurt and alcohol in equal measure. To trust his brother again, really trust, and work together to turn back the tide they’d unleashed. Maybe… just maybe… it was time to stop being his father’s shadow and just be himself.

Pushing himself to his feet, Dean went in search of his brother.

* * *

Bobby was out in the yard, still exercising his legs after being stuck in the wheelchair for so long. Sam was in Bobby’s study, reading something that looked like it was older than every human in the town combined. His little brother looked up when he entered, an expression of guarded hope on his face. “Two questions,” Dean started, bypassing preamble as always. “One: why’d you change your mind about telling me?”

Sam’s eyes shuttered briefly, opened again. “Things changed. You needed to know what I knew, because you have a right to know why I trust him… because I hoped you’d understand why I trust him, even if you won’t. I didn’t want to tell you… but I love you both, Dean. Need you both. I didn’t have a choice anymore.”

Dean nodded, understanding, heart soaring a little to hear Sam say he loved him and the Hell with it making him a giant girl; he’d needed to hear that for longer than he cared to admit. “Okay. Two… did Gabriel tell you what was up with Cas an’ me while you two were getting’ hitched?”

A faint blush stained Sam’s neck. “Not really… but I think I know anyway.” Dean raised an eyebrow and Sam shrugged. “I know you, Dean. Gabriel said he could sense you through a bond to Castiel: unfinished, but strong. While you were reading, I realized you were being a way bigger jerk about me and Gabriel than I’d anticipated you being, but you backed right down when Cas showed up. The biggest giveaway was the pie, though.”

“What’s that s’posed to mean?” Dean demanded, a little thrown.

“You and Cas have been making moon eyes at each other for two years, but you’ve _never_ shared pie with him before.” Sam’s eyes twinkled with mischief, almost like Gabriel’s might have, and Dean nearly groaned. “You do, don’t you? Love Cas?”

“Doesn’t change the fact that Lucifer forced Cas into the whole mate-bonding thing,” Dean protested.

“And that doesn’t change the fact that you weren’t gonna dance around Cas forever,” Sam countered. “You were gonna slip eventually, Dean. Was only a matter of time; it would’ve happened anyway.” Dean was silent for a long moment, conceding the point with the barest flicker of his eyes; Sam pressed his advantage. “Would it really be so bad, Dean? To have love in our lives we can actually keep?”

“They’re immortal,” Dean pointed out. “We’re not.”

“Our souls are,” Sam riposted. “They’ll be with us _forever_ , Dean. Think about it: hunting with them, not needing to worry about them finding out what we do and thinking we’re crazy. No more credit card fraud: Gabriel can literally _create_ the cash we’ll need if pool hustling comes up short. We can communicate with them through the bonds; no more calling Cas on a cell phone. We can keep tabs on each other through them if we need to separate, maybe even find a way to talk directly without going through our angels. If one of us is in trouble, they can get to us in time; no more worrying about getting killed if we get cut off. If we get hurt, they can heal us… not being vessels anymore… Dean, can you see even _one_ downside to all this?”

Dean’s face was shuttered, his eyes far away for a long moment. Every point Sam made was valid, every pro one Helluva good reason to want this… to keep this… “Right after Lucifer rose… when you took a break… Zachariah paid me a visit. Cas wasn’t with me at the time.”

The words came slowly, dragged out, unwilling to be spoken. Dean envied Sam the ability to just tell his big secret by tossing Dean one of Chuck’s books… but then, if Sam had just told Dean, rather than provide the book as proof, Dean knew he probably would’ve accused Sam of making it up. And talking, opening up, had always been harder for Dean than Sam, so this was probably just karma coming to bite him in the ass.

“He tossed me five years into the future… four now. Everything looked like the set for a post-apocalyptic B-movie; Croatoan was all over the place… I went lookin’ for people… not-infected people… found me. Future-me.”

Vaguely, Dean felt the shift in the air as Castiel and Gabriel joined them. The angels gravitated to their humans, Castiel standing close but not touching him while Gabriel sat between Sam’s legs and leaned back, letting Sam wrap him close.

“I was… it wasn’t good. I was using what Alastair taught me to get information, didn’t give a crap about anybody… and Cas… Cas was human, no angel left, high as a kite on any drugs he could find, chasing it with booze and absinthe and women… he’d given up on hope, on me, on everything…

“We had a plan to go after Lucifer… or future-me had one… he knocked me out when I tried to stop him… when I figured out what he… I… was gonna do… time I came to, everybody else… everybody future-me had brought… they were already in the trap… including Cas… they were cannon fodder… I threw his life away, all their lives, for one shot… future-me didn’t know the Colt wouldn’t work…”

Dean wasn’t looking at any of them, could only feel Cas through the bond, strong and loving and understanding… absolution for sins not yet committed… grace throbbing against Dean’s soul like a beacon, reminding him that Cas was no longer falling… Cas’ fury with Zachariah underlying it all, for forcing such horror on Dean when Castiel had been unawares…

“I got there just in time… to see the devil snap future-me’s neck…” The words struggled against coming, but Dean wouldn’t… couldn’t stop now… put every ounce of strength behind them and forced them out in a cracked whisper of anguish. “With your right foot.”

Sam gasped. Cas had a hand on Dean’s back now, wrapping Dean in safety and love and comfort through their bond. The rage coming from Gabriel was palpable, crackling in the air. “Dean…”

“You said yes, Sammy.” The words came easier now, the dam breached. “We hadn’t spoken in all that time, and you said yes. And the smug bastard actually looked almost apologetic… looked at me with your goddamned puppy-dog eyes… while he said the same thing every angel we’ve ever met says… including Cas: no matter what we change… no matter how hard we try… all roads lead to the same place. You’re gonna say yes, Sam… I’ve seen it with my own eyes… and Lucifer had to’ve had a reason for wanting me and Cas bound. That’s why I don’t… can’t just trust this and be all sunshine and roses and ‘I’m in love’. The storm’s on the horizon and I can’t stop it. Nothin’ can.”

Silence echoed. The four of them were still as statues in Bobby’s study, caught by the magnitude of the despair Dean had been fighting alone, tooth and claw, for months. Finally, Gabriel’s voice broke the thunderous quiet. “You think I made a deal with my brother… that the bonds to me and Castiel somehow ensure that Mike and Luci get to ride your asses to the finish line.” When Dean nodded, Gabriel laughed darkly. “Gotta say: if it was actually possible, it’d be one heckuva diabolical plan. I do like how your mind works, Deano; Sammy’s the brains in the family, but you’re no slouch.”

“Gabriel.” Castiel’s voice was all warning as he pressed closer to Dean, protective of his mate in this moment of total vulnerability.

“No, he should be proud!” Gabriel never moved from Sam’s arms, left hand gripping hard on Sam’s left wrist where it crossed his waist. “It’s hard to be functional with that much paranoia rampaging in your cranium.”

“Mate.”

Sam’s tone was gentle, but the soft edge of reproach had the effect Castiel’s warning hadn’t. Gabriel sighed. “Zachariah… _Zachariel_ … he’s the youngest of us archangels, kid, and he’s a bigger bag of dicks than all my brothers combined. A bootlicker since the Beginning, mostly Michael’s boots. He had no business doing what he did; not to mention that it was totally brainless. Talk about the fastest way to ensure that you’d never say yes _and_ that you’d hook back up with Sammy here. He hasn’t paid even the slightest little bit of attention to how these boys think, has he, Cas?”

“Not ostensibly, no.” Castiel reached up, turning Dean’s face to his with one finger under his chin. “The future is more fluid than the past, Dean… the eventuality you saw no longer exists… and if I did not believe that we can change what is deemed inevitable, I would not have turned my face from the Father and joined you.”

Dean’s heart clutched in his chest, tears gathering in his eyes. _I have to save him, Cas… I can’t let it happen…_

_*I know, beloved… we don’t want it any more than you do…*_

_*Let us help you.*_ Gabriel’s voice now, filtered through Castiel. Dean blinked at the sound of it, startled. _*You can’t haul the whole train yourself, kiddo, and tryin’ll only get you killed before you ever even **see** the finish line.*_

Strong hands at his shoulders. Dean turned to stare up at his brother, whose tear-filled eyes mirrored his own. “I won’t say yes, Dean… I can’t now, no matter what he tries to tempt or break me with. We didn’t start this, but we have to end it… we’re the only ones crazy enough to try… and it could kill us all to get it done. Please Dean… let us have this… we get to put a plug in the dam while we figure out how to patch it, and get love in the bargain. Please.”

“You realize this qualifies as a chick flick moment,” Dean hedged, avoidance on automatic…

A sound of exasperation came from Gabriel. Castiel actually rolled his eyes. Sam ignored them, staring down at Dean, into Dean… _**“Please.”**_

They were all around him… encasing him… folding him into something Dean had wanted all his life… Sam, his brother, loving him back with all the intensity Dean had poured into their relationship since the moment he’d carried Sam from the fire almost thirty years ago… since before Sam had even been born, when Dean found out he was going to be a big brother…

Gabriel, a renegade archangel, tied to Sam through bonds of loyalty that Dean barely understood the reason for… but in this moment, he could feel them… could feel the unbreakable thread that made Gabriel another brother through Sam, that told him without question that Gabriel would die for Sam, just as Dean would…

Castiel… his angel… his savior… the love of his soul… steadfast and unflinching, willing to take Dean as he was and finding him beautiful in spite of all the darkness… of the evil he was capable of wreaking without a second thought…

They were all around him, enveloping him in love… even Gabriel, with whom he’d always clashed and probably always would… but that was okay, because Gabriel actually looked _forward_ to the snark-fests and the prank wars, to the bickering and the cockblocking and the sheer madness that came from blowing off steam after seeing so much death and darkness…

He was looking forward to having brothers again… even a brother like Dean…

They were all around him, and they all loved him. Believed in him. Wanted him with them.

Sam’s voice found its way into his mind, filtered through the two angels but still as loud as if he’d spoken through his lips. _*I was never running from you, Dean… I ran from Dad… looking for what we were **both** denied… you were collateral damage… and I’m sorry for that. Don’t push this away now… we may not have much time left to be a family… Please._

Dean closed his eyes, leaned his forehead into Sam’s, and took a long, steadying breath.

They were all around him. They all loved him. And Dean wanted never to leave this space, this moment in time when he was safe, surrounded by love.

Leaning back again, Dean opened his eyes and smiled. “Team Free Will,” he said softly, and all three of them smiled, feeling his acquiescence, his acceptance, through the bonds they shared. “A high-school-dropout, an ex-demon-blood-junkie, a fake pagan demi-god, and a holy tax accountant.”

Sam grinned at him. “And we’re gonna save the world.”

“You bet your ass we are.” Dean yielded as Sam yanked him into a fierce hug, wrapping into his brother and letting relief spill through him. They were going to win.

They were going to save the world. Sam wasn’t going to say yes. Everything was going to be all right.

“There _would_ be a name for this insanity we’re all proposing,” Gabriel snarked, breaking the moment. “Are there matching bowling shirts in garish colors, at least?”

Dean groaned. “All right, smart-ass. Rule Number One: you ever hurt Sammy and I’ll use Cas’ angel-killing knife to carve you into bite-sized pieces. Rule Number Two: no screwing in the Impala, especially not while I’m driving. Rule Number Three: driver picks the music, passengers shut their cake holes.”

“Rule Number Four,” Gabriel shot back, grinning as he did so. “You hurt Castiel and I’ll do things to you that Alastair couldn’t dream up in a thousand years. Rule Number Five: I reserve the right to molest your brother in your presence whenever the Hell I feel like it. Rule Number Six-”

“Is that there are no rules,” Castiel interrupted. Uncharacteristically, he placed a possessive hand on Dean’s backside, fitting over the handprint he’d recently left there, and squeezed. Grace shot through Dean and his mouth dropped open. “We will set boundaries as needed… won’t we, beloved?”

Dean nodded, a little startled. Sam grinned.

“Actually, Rule Number Six is that nobody’s molestin’ anybody where I can see it,” drawled Bobby from the doorway. There was a fond look on the old hunter’s face as the brothers’ and the angels’ attention snapped around to focus on him. “I just got over bein’ crippled; don’t relish the idea of goin’ blind.”

Laughter broke, filling the little house in the salvage yard. For just a moment, though Heaven and Hell massed for war around them, they were at peace.


End file.
